Got nothing to say except thanks for the reviews. Enjoy.
I knocked at the managers' door, which was opened by a very disgruntled Firmin.
"Miss Bonnet – do, do come in, please..."
He stepped aside, allowing me to enter their office.
"So, Messieurs. What's the damage?"
"Ludicrous!
Have you seen the score?"
"Simply ludicrous!"
"It's the final straw!"
"Lunacy,
Well you know my views..."
"Utter lunacy,
But we daren't refuse!"
"Not another chandelier!"
"Look, my friends,
What we have here."
I held up the note Erik had handed me for the managers, trying a reassuring smile at them as their faces fell. As neither made a move to approach me, I unfolded the note and started to read.
"Dear André,
Re: my orchestration,
We need another first bassoon.
Get a player with tone –
And that third trombone,
Has to go.
The man could not be deafer,
So please preferably one who plays in tune."
Monsieur Firmin snarled and snatched the paper from me before I could continue.
"Dear Firmin,
Vis-a-vis my opera,
Some chorus members must be sacked."
He glared down at the note and I suggested, smirking,
"If you could find out which has a sense of pitch–"
"Wisely, though,
I managed to assign a rather miner role
To those who cannot act!"
As if on cue, the door burst open and Carlotta stormed in with Signor Piangi, who seemed to follow her like a dog, on her heels.
"An outrage!
This whole affair is an outrage!"
"Signora, please..."
"Now, what's the matter?"
"Have you seen the size of my part?" she exclaimed furiously.
"An insult!"
"Not you as well!" Monsieur André groaned at Piangi's interference.
"Just look at this, it's an insult!"
"The things I have to do for my art!"
"If you can call this... gibberish... art!"
"Monsieur!" I chastised. "If the composer were to hear you-"
"Ah," Carlotta interrupted me, turning to the door, "Here's our little flower-"
"Oh, Miss Daaé, quite the lady of the hour!"
Both our managers rushed to greet Christine who had entered the door, accompanied by our dear Vicomte.
"You have secured the largest role in this Don Juan," Monsieur André explained.
"Christine Daaé? She doesn't have the voice!"
"Signora, please," I said.
The Vicomte meanwhile deemed other things more important. "Then I take it you're agreeing?"
"It appears we have no choice."
"She's the one behind this,
Christine Daaé..."
"How dare you?"
Never had I seen little Christine as angry as she was now, pointing accusingly at Carlotta.
"You evil woman,
How dare you?
This isn't my fault!
I don't want any part of this plot!"
"Miss Daaé, surely-"
"It is your choice-"
"But why not?"
"You have a duty!" I reminded her.
"I cannot sing it –
Duty or not."
"Christine, Christine...
You don't have to,
They can't make you."
Oh, I definitely knew someone who could make her...
"Please, Monsieur, another note!"
Monsieur Firmin groaned in exasperation as Monsieur André gestured to the just-arrived Madame Giry.
"Fondest greetings to you all,
A few instructions just before rehearsal starts.
Carlotta must be taught to act,
Not her normal trick of strutting round the stage...
Our Don Juan must lose some weight,
It's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age.
And my managers must learn
That their place is in an office, not in art.
As for Miss Christine Daaé...
No doubt she'll do her best,
It's true, her voice is good,
She knows though should she wish to excel,
She has much still to learn,
If pride will let her return to me...
Her teacher. Her teacher...
Your obedient friend and angel."
Christine had paled visibly, her eyes twitching nervously around the room. Her fiancé didn't pay her too much attention, though. His face showed a sudden determination and he smiled grimly.
"We have all been blind... and yet the answer is staring us in the face! This might be the chance to ensnare our clever friend."
"Go on..."
"We shall play his game – perform his work," he added. "but remember, we hold an ace. For if Miss Daaé sings, he is certain to attend!"
"We make certain the doors are bared!"
"We make certain our men are there!"
"We make certain they're armed!"
"The curtain falls –
His reign will end!"
I shook my head disbelievingly.
"Madness!"
"I'm not so sure..."
"What if it works?"
"This is madness!"
"The tide will turn!"
"Monsieur, believe me,
There is no way of turning the tide!"
"Oh, you stick to ballet!"
"Help us," the Vicomte urged and it took me a moment to realize that he had rounded on Madame Giry. "Instead of warning us – help us!"
"I wish I could..."
"Don't make excuses!" both the managers exclaimed.
"Or could it be that you're on his side?"
"She's his accomplice!" Carlotta sneered.
"Messieurs, believe me,
I intend no ill,
But messieurs, be careful,
We have seen him kill!"
"This is his undoing!" the Vicomte exclaimed.
"You are mad if you think-"
"Angel of music,
Fear my fury!"
"Here is where you'll fall!"
"Say your prayer black angel of death-"
"If you don't stop I'll go mad!" Christine shrieked; the score she was holding landed heavily on the floor. "Raoul, I'm frightened, don't make me do this – it scares me, don't put me through this ordeal... He'll take me, I know it and he won't ever let me go again...
What I once used to dream, I now dread –
If he finds me, it won't ever end,
And he'll always be there,
Singing songs in my head..."
"She's mad," Carlotta whispered and she almost sounded as though she pitied the girl.
"You said yourself, he was nothing but a man," the Vicomte said firmly. "While he lives, he will hunt us."
"Twisted every way,
what answer can I give?
Am I to risk my life,
to win the chance to live?
Can I betray the man
who once inspired my voice?
Do I become his prey?
Do I have any choice?He kills without a thought,
he murders all that's good . . .
I know I can't refuse
and yet, I wish I could . . .
Oh God - if I agree,
what horrors wait for me
in this, the Phantom's opera . . .?"
"Christine," the Vicomte cut in urgently. "Don't think that I don't care – but our hope rests on you, now."
"No," I interrupted. "Christine – think how proud he would be-"
"Miss Daaé-"
"I can't!" she cried, leaping up and rushing out of the room, sobbing.
The Vicomte emitted an exasperated scream. "So it shall be war between us!" he announced. "But this time, my clever friend, the disaster will be yours!"
I huffed, annoyed. "You don't have any idea what you are getting yourself into, Monsieur."
He sneered at me, but I didn't pay him any mind. I turned my back on them and walked out. The Vicomte was only right at one point – Christine had to sing. There was no other way to avoid the certain disaster we would have to face if we denied Erik his wishes.
Where had she gone? I looked around and found a door open behind which the stairs led to the roof. Thinking of it, it seemed highly likely that I would find her up there. After all, she had fled there before, even if she still had been found.
"Christine?"
Christine was sitting, curled up in her mantle as she stared at the busy streets of Paris below.
"Are you all right?"
"No."
Despite the cold, I sat down next to her. "The Vicomte is pretty set on his plan," I informed her. "He hopes you will change your mind."
"I can't!" she exclaimed. "He will... he will..."
"And what, do you think, will he do if you refuse to sing? He wants you to sing it, you alone."
She sniffled quietly. "Tell me, has he written this for me? This role?"
"He's been working on Don Juan Triumphant for as long as I know him," I answered. "I doubt he's even thought about you when he started it."
"And now?" she inquired. "Why's it so important that I-"
"He changed a few scores to better fit your range," I told her thoughtfully. "As he would have done for everyone he would have picked. He thinks you the best choice. Instead of cowering, you should be proud. He is very hard to please."
"I know," she reminded me bitterly. "I have learned from him for years."
"He couldn't have been that bad. You called him an angel."
"And a very strict angel he was," she replied, smiling slightly. "I really thought-"
"Why, he never denied it, either."
"Sometimes I wish I had never seen him. I wish he were still my teacher, my angel, so I could... could love him like I did. But then, I remember that he has killed and..."
"I see. If you ask me, this can go two ways. One. You accept that he is who he is and decide to please him by singing. Or two. You want him gone, which you can only achieve by singing. Either way, you end up taking the role."
"Did he send you?"
"No," I scoffed. "If he had, I would have told him to sort out his problems on his own."
"You wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed, horrified.
"Oh, I would! If I didn't, I would be too busy running his errands to even do my job."
She bit her lip thoughtfully. "I will sing," she said slowly. "Though I don't know yet what I want to come off it."
"Well you can happily decide on that whenever you like," I concluded. "But it's good that you'll sing."
Keep 'em reviews coming! (What can I say, they make me happy...)